May a wall of rainbows greet you
It’s late, I’m tired. A photo shall have to suffice.
Dulles Airport.
Winter, Be Kind
On a day where I found out a dearly beloved had been sexually assaulted, on a day where a friend’s new shelter dog died after just a month with her, I find myself close to tears. Between Paris and anti-immigrant governors, I am too much with this world. I would ask winter to be a little kinder, please.
Ways to make winter a little brighter:
- Crystals hung in windows to make morning and afternoon rainbows
- Toasted panettone with butter
- Long walks wearing a scarf
- Tea and conversation at a cozy cafe with a friend
- Netflix binges
- Singing with other people
- Forget pumpkin spice. Brussels sprouts everything.
Speaking of Brussels sprouts, I got a fresh stalk today. I was in the kitchen, popping the sprouts off the stalk when Abbie Lynn came in and began staring at me intently. She had already eaten and had spent the day at day care, so I knew she didn’t need food or exercise.
Then I realized.
When she was a pup, I had given her a denuded Brussels sprouts stalk to play with like a stick. She remembered. She wanted the stick.
Dogs never forget.
Abbie with a winter rainbow.
Be That
I got all choked up in the parking lot of Costco tonight.
I was loading a case of Pellegrino water in my car and remembered how Bruce loved Costco.
He would buy extravagant quantities of stuff at Costco and then give them away, because what was he, a bachelor, going to do with a dozen apples, each the size of a grapefruit?
He bought two cases of Pellegrino one time and gave one to me. Then the next day he told me he had tried the water and “didn’t like it,” which was code for “I actually bought two cases for you because I knew you liked it.”
So I got a little teary loading a case of Pellegrino into my car because it made me remember Bruce and whisper “I miss ya, buddy,” out there in the parking lot.
That’s my inspirational poster for the day. Be the kind of person whom other people will cry over in a Costco parking lot.
Bruce, getting some kind of award at Toastmasters.
It is Coming From Inside the House
When my sister Elva was here, she told me she heard something inside the walls. Something alive.
Yeah, ok, I thought.
Last night I heard it.
Something CHEWING inside the walls. Loudly chewing wood. Gnawing.
Does Abbie Lynn care? Not a chance. She slept through it.
It’s probably for the best. Goldie would have ripped through the sheetrock to get whatever it was.
The landlord says he is sending over a Rat Zapper.
What is a Rat Zapper? Do I want to know?
Until then, I’m putting my white noise app on at night, so I can pretend.
Sky Blue Pink
If you asked my father what his favorite color was, he would answer “Sky Blue Pink.”
My dad didn’t seem to be a fanciful guy on the surface – he was gruff, he was taciturn, he was stern – but he had some deeply fanciful characteristics, like having a favorite color like Sky Blue Pink.
One of my favorite memories with my mom is traveling to Montana on a little Boeing 727 that made 5 stops along the way. We were traveling above the Rocky Mountains and below the cloud layer just at sunset, when suddenly the whole world turned vibrant pink. The snow, the clouds, the mountains…even the air seemed pink. We gasped and just sat there and took it all in.
On this trip, I got a similar glimpse, but from above the clouds this time. I think it was almost, just almost, Sky Blue Pink.
I’m not sure I understand the Newseum
There’s a museum in Washington DC called the Newseum. Cute. The news museum. But I don’t….get it.
The news is the news. It doesn’t need a museum.
Journalism is called the first draft of history. Shouldn’t it stay that way?
They have a news helicopter there and a chunk of the Berlin Wall and some movies made up of news clips with inspirational voice overs.
Yeah…not sure.
The best part is the first amendment to the US Constitution carved into the front five stories high.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
Don’t forget to use it.
Small Things With Great Love
I don’t know what to do at times like this, when terrorists have killed an incredible number of people in Paris, other than to shine a little light.
Good Things That Happened on My Trip to DC
- Strangers rented their home to me, with all their stuff in it. What trust!
- The world’s sweetest cashier, a guy named Charles at the Safeway on 5th and L Street, entertained me so much as I bought my groceries.
- My friend Devra drove all the way up from Virginia to spend time with me.
- A Metro worker walked me quite a distance to make sure I was going the right way.
- A security guard – not a docent, a security guard – spent 15 minutes giving me the entire history of Whistler’s Peacock Room.
- A ranger at the Martin Luther King Jr. memorial chatted with me for about 15 minutes while I waited for my bus. She was a delightful storyteller.
- My friend Laurie drove all the way from way out in Maryland suburbs to have lunch with me.
- The DC Center for Spiritual Living gave me a super warm welcome.
- So did the National Press Club Toastmasters Club, who even insisted I pose at their podium with their gavel.
- All in all, people were kind and friendly and helpful. I even walked alone through some fairly terrible neighborhoods (in daylight, thankfully) and remained unharmed. So thanks for being wonderful, DC. You’re still one of my favorite cities.
Even though the news is terrible, billions of loving acts are happening all around us every day. Never forget that.
PS Happy Birthday, Elvie!
Thank God I’m home
So tired. Is there any rule against phoning it in? No? Ok, this is me phoning it in.
I stayed at the Grand Hyatt in Washington DC. I’m pretty chill, but they managed to piss me off. Let us count the ways:
- Having a broken…what do you call those circular door things you have where it snows? Oh, revolving door. Having a broken revolving door AND having three staff people just stand there while I tried to get me and all my luggage through the two heavy glass doors. They just WATCHED me struggle. Thanks, gentlemen.
- Not having any signage to the well-disguised check-in desk at a lobby the size of a NFL football stadium.
- Checking me out on the first day of a three day stay. And on the second. But ironically, not on the third.
- Not cleaning my room until I discovered it unserviced at 6 pm.
- Offering to email my bill to me, twice, and failing to do so either time, despite the clerk saying she was going to “stay late to do every one of these individually if I have to” (their system was down, so they could not provide bills at checkout. Mmm hmm).
OTHER THAN THAT, it was mostly fine. Nice place. Close to the Metro. But for the price, check out the Kimpton Hotel Madera or Hotel George down the way. They have free happy hour AND giraffe robes, and their system has never been down, as far as I know.
Update: it only took me 10 minutes of hold time and 2 email addresses to get my folio emailed to me, because their website was experiencing an “unexpected error.” The person on the phone asked me how my stay was and listened, but didn’t really sympathize after I told my story. She did, however, kindly offer to remove the charge for the bottled water that I had not actually consumed from my bill.
At the end of the call, she did say “About all that stuff…I’m not sure what happened.” Thank you for your sympathy. Do not leave the light on for me.
Was sleeping. Woke up to blog
Nablopomo is a tough master, y’all.
Today’s first: hand made noodles.
Good night.
I almost forgot Nablopomo
What I did today:
Took Uber for the second time in 2 days, my first trips. Had a nice conversation en español with my Honduran driver.
Went to Maryland for the first time
Had tapas lunch with my longtime blogging friend, Laurie
Visited the Freer museum and saw Whistler’s famous Peacock Room
Went to the National Press Club for a Toastmasters meeting
Whew. Massive earache. Time for bed.
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